But Cecilia's grip tightened, her embrace so intense that her nails dug into his skin.

Her body quivered uncontrollably.

In that instant, Mark's resolve wavered, and tears threatened to fall.

Life had thrown myriad challenges his way, teaching him to maintain a facade of tranquility. However, the heartfelt sobbing of the woman he cherished shook his composure.

“Cecilia,” he uttered, his voice laced with emotion.

She offered no response, her face pressed against his back. He was leaner now, but his frame was actually more robust than during his illness.

After what felt like an eternity, her voice, barely above a whisper, broke the silence.

"Does it still hurt?"

“The pain's gone."

Finally, Mark rotated, his eyes meeting Cecilia's tear-streaked face.

For the first time, he realized reconciliation wouldn't bring sheer joy.

Instead, a profound sorrow engulfed him.

Mark switched off the gas stove, his gaze deep and intense as he gently caressed her face.

It had been ages since he'd allowed himself to look at her this way.

Her skin, warm and inviting under his touch, felt like his sanctuary.

Cecilia's voice, quivering, called out to him.

Overwhelmed, he leaned forward, capturing her lips in a passionate French kiss.

She staggered, finding support against the kitchen counter.

Their kisses were fervent, repeated.

Ultimately, they went no further than that embrace. Cecilia rested her head on his shoulder, her tears a silent stream.